Being Sick SUCKS!
by Shattered-record
Summary: Robin catches a really bad case of pneumonia and he absolutely hates it. Did he mention that he would rather fight the Joker than be sick? Okay, so that might be a lie, but it sure feels like it right now. I tried to make this a oneshot, but I failed, so it will have a couple of chapters. R and R.
1. Chapter 1

The minute Robin woke up he felt all of the aster leave his body. His energy was totally depleted and he was aching all over. However, Robin was nothing if not persistent (and a troll, but that's not the point) and he was not about to give up to some _little, insignificant cold_. That would happen about a millennia after hell froze over. So up he went, not realizing that he was doing something he would regret only a moment later.

Richard Grayson stood on shaky legs, knees slightly giving out underneath him as he nearly hit the floor. A wave of nausea hit him harder than Batman hits all of his enemies. He forced it back and pressed forwards on wobbling legs, keeping a hand constantly on something, anything, preferably something he could grab onto, to keep his balance. On the way out of the room he checked his oversized mirror; what he saw terrified him. There was Dick, but not the one he knew. His eyes were large and bloodshot, his skin was very pale except for his flushed cheeks, his body was trembling from cold, and he just looked so darn tired. He laid himself back down in bed, willing himself to fall back slowly and not give into his body's naturally weak state. He reached his arm, and God did he feel so _weak and pathetic,_ to his nightstand and managed to pick up his phone, calling the number that was first on his speed dial.

 _BRIINNNGGG! BRRINNGGGGG!_

Bruce Wayne groaned as his large fist came down like a hammer on his apparent 'alarm clock' aka. His cell phone. "Gosh Dang it! Who's calling this early in the morning?!" The now very groggy, irritated billionaire begrudgingly picked up his phone and squinted at the contact picture. When he saw his beloved ward's face, he was on instant edge. He pressed the accept call button and hit the 'speaker' His nerves were already fried. There was absolutely nothing that could worry him faster. "Dick? What's the matter?" His eyebrows knit tightly together in concern.

On the other side of the house Robin was coughing to death, trying to ignore the stabbing pains in his chest; he was dying on the inside. "Bruce…" He whimpered quietly, so much so that the Boy Wonder would be surprised if Bruce heard it. Of course, just by Bruce being Bruce, he did hear it.

"Oh my gosh, Dick what's wrong?"

"Oh, you know, just the daily round of being so sick that I can't see straight." He thought, wanting nothing more than to be able to say that with his usual sarcastic grin on his face. It seemed as though he wouldn't be getting his wish anytime soon. He couldn't even strain out any intelligible words. All he got out was a few soft moans and he was lucky he got that much. His throat was trying to murder him.

"Hold on Dickie; I'll be there soon." Bruce was panicking as he sprinted out of bed, feet sliding on the cold, hard, wooden floor. He caught himself midway to Robin's room. He forced himself to slow down to a speed walk, but even then he still flew down the corridor. He didn't even bother to knock on his wards door. What he saw made his heart clench in this chest and his breath catch in his throat. There, still laying in bed and curled up in the presumably warm sheets, was his ill ward.

Dick's chest was rapidly rising and falling, his breathing loud and ragged, his body soaked in sweat, and looking totally helpless. No, not helpless, like he needed someone. Like… like… like he needed his dad, except his biological dad wasn't alive anymore. He needed his DaddyBats and that's just what Bruce would give him…. Except he had no clue what to do with a sick child, and Dick was no different. "What do you need Dick?" He put all the gentleness possible into his tone.

"Get Alfred," he rasped out, his sentence barely sounding coherent. Instantly, Bruce had his phone in a death grip, his fingers pressing the speed dial for Alfred.

BRRIINNNNGGG! BBRRINNNNNGGG!

Alfred was a bit more composed than Bruce was when he went to pick up the phone, but he still was concerned. People did call Alfred, but not as often as they called Bruce and definitely not this early in the morning. "Hello Master Bruce," he said uncertainly after he checked the caller I.D. He heard the shaky breaths on the other line and knew something was wrong.

"Dick is sick and I have no clue on what to do." Bruce said, straight to the point as usual, but the confident tone just wasn't there.

"I'll be right there Master Bruce. Hold on." He breathed a sigh of relief that it wasn't something worse than that. Even so, Alfred was fast on his feet as he went to get the thermometer from the cupboard and extra blankets from the linen closet. He walked to Dick's room and didn't even have to open the door because Bruce had sensed him and opened it for him. When he came in, Richard's baby blue eyes flicked open his breath came out even more strained.

"Master Dick! You look awful."

"Gee, thanks Alfred" He muttered, somehow working up the energy to roll his eyes. Alfred took the opportunity to stick the thermometer in his mouth. When he pulled it out his eyebrow raised and Dick didn't miss the look on his face.

"103.4, that isn't good. Can you try talking for me?"

"Testing testing 1,2,3,4…" His voiced rasped causing him intense pain, but he kept his fake smile on anyway. He coughed miserably after that though, totally ruining the fake image he had put up.

"Your voice is scratching and it sounds like you're in pain. From my observations you have a lack of energy. Are you hot or cold?" He only managed to say "Co-" Before his voice gave out on him. He whimpered and coughed, his throat feeling like he had sandpaper in it. Bruce gave him a small, sympathetic look before tucking the blankets and the extra blankets tightly around his son. Alfred then gently pulled Bruce to the side.

"Master Dick at least has a high fever, if not anything more. He could quite possibly have a case of pneumonia or bronchitis. He needs lots of rest and fluids to get better soon. I'll go fetch medication for him."

"Right. Is there anything I should do?"

"Just stay here with him. I will be back in a moment with the proper amenities. Hold tight, Master Dick."

Robin glanced over at Bruce with that look that he really hoped read 'I'm going to absolutely dread every single second of this'.

"You and me both Dick. You and me both."

 **(A/N) This fanfic was inspired by pretty much the first couple months of this year where I got the worst fever I've ever had (so bad that I actually had to go to the ER), plus pneumonia for at least a week, which made me feel totally miserable. Thank God I'm fine now and hopefully won't have to ever deal with that again, but it was awful while it happened. But it sure makes for a good story, now doesn't it? I know that Bruce is OOC in this, but I don't really care. I feel like he would do this if he was given a chance to, even if not to this extent. I wasn't really planning on making this a multi chaptered story, but looking at it I probably should. This is sort of compensation for missing the deadline on my other story, and I'm sorry for that. Really I am.**

 **Please R and R! See you guys on the next chapter I upload!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anyone In this fanfic. Or the items in this story. Or the illness that Dickie bird has gotten.**

 **Sayonara Reader Chan!**


	2. Chapter 2

By the time Alfred had gotten back, Bruce had situated himself so that he was lying by Dick's side on the bed. The young Robin was blushing, partially because he was sick and partially because he was embarrassed, as he let his dad rub a hand over his forehead and back through his hair. He wouldn't admit it, but it felt good. His head, and body for that matter, was burning but he still felt cold. The heat from his hand felt beautiful. So, he let the both Bruce and the blush stay, not having enough strength or energy to fight either.

Bruce, seeing that Alfred had medicine, said, "Dick, you need to sit up to take your medicine."

"Dun wanna," Dick mumbled in his feverish daze. He leaned into Bruce's hand as it slowly swept across his forehead.

"I know you don't want to, but if you want to get better you need to." It was then that Bruce slowly snaked an arm under Dick's back and another under his leg, moving him so that he was propped up amongst the many pillows. Alfred carefully poured out one of the famous batman drug cocktails into Dick's mouth. It's hard to say for certain what goes in those, but it always seems to work when they get sick. That doesn't mean that they don't come without side effects, however. The one that weighed down most heavily on the young acrobat was the drowsiness. He yawned and accompanied it with a small coughing session.

"Rest Master Dick. I am certain you will feel better when you wake."

"Sure thing Alf," Richard murmured, becoming more unaware of his surroundings. He tentatively leaned back, snuggling into Bruce's side and hugging his arm close to his body. Before Bruce could protest (not that he was going to), his ward was asleep. He was effectively trapped. Alfred offered no help as he simply smiled and walked out of the room, saying, "Don't hesitate in contacting me when the young sir wakes up. I will prepare soup and tea." The billionaire nodded and took a moment to study his ward. Dick was pale and his face glistened with sweat. His cheeks seemed to be less red than they were when he was awake, but that wasn't saying a whole lot. His hair was plastered down sticking to his forehead, and his clothes did the same to his body. His breathing was fast and raspy,and he looked to be in pain. He whimpered in his sleep and moved closer, subconsciously looking for something to hold on to. They stayed like that for a couple hours, Bruce studying his surroundings and Dick attempting to rest in a fitful sleep.

"Mami, tati, nu mă lăsa, vă rugăm!" Dick yelped, talking in his sleep. It startled Bruce. "Nu poti face acest lucru din nou! Am nevoie de tine cu mine! De ce … de ce mă abandonarea!"* Bruce's eyes widened and his heart broke for his little bird as Richard screamed in his sleep. Dick woke up screeching with tears in his eyes, starting to hyperventilate. This wasn't the first time this had happened, but it was the first time his dad had ever been around to witness it. Usually, Bruce was at the other side of the Wayne Manor when the nightmares occurred, so he could stare into the dark until exhaustion took over and he fell into a dreamless sleep. He was ashamed of himself. _Superheroes don't cry!_ He berated, bracing himself for Bruce's disappointment. He didn't expect him to bring him into a hug, cradling the young boy into his chest. Dick couldn't decide which reaction was worse. He calmed himself as quickly as he could manage, but the tears fell for a good ten minutes. Batman ignored the tears and snot mingling on his shirt. When Bruce was sure Robin was good enough to talk, he asked him if he wanted to tell him what it was about. Not wanting to, but at the same time not wanting to frustrate his dad, the acrobatic teen started talking, doing his best to ignore his burning throat and watery eyes.

"My.. parents were there… alive… and they were… apologizing to me, but they said that they couldn't take it anymore." Dick tried to sit up as he scrubbed furiously at his eyes. Bruce didn't let him. "They...suicided, and you know what the funny part was?" Here, robin laughed bitterly, punctuated with wheezing and coughing and broken dry sobs. "They jumped off of our starting platform at Haly's Circus, only there wasn't anything to catch them. Not even acid-coated wires." The billionaire was attacked by painful flashbacks of the first time he had seen Dick flying on the trapeze, Dick's parents deaths, his parents deaths, to his nightmares, and to the nightmares he experienced sometimes. He still got them, sometimes, the nightmares. He had felt what Dick was feeling. From the little Romani he knew, he was now positive that the two of them had at least one fear in common; abandonment. The two of them had very different ways of showing it though. Bruce prefered to distance himself so that there were less people to abandon him, and Dick prefered to draw people close, knowing that if you had no one you made your fear self-fulfilling.

To be honest, Bruce wasn't really sure of how he was supposed to react, or rather, how his son wanted him to react. He could convince him that it was just the fever talking, but that wouldn't be real unless he could convince himself first. Besides, Dick always seemed to figure out when he was lying to him. He could tell him that he understood, which he did, but no one wants to hear that. So, he simply held the boy until he was asleep again, from his illness coupled with emotional exhaustion. This time Bruce fell asleep too. They never thought Alfred could be wrong.

 *** When Dick is screaming in his night terror, I used google translate and I know it isn't always the most accurate thing, so, here is what I wanted the english translation to be; "Mommy, Daddy, don't leave me, please! I can't deal with this again! I need you with me! Why… why are you abandoning me again?"**

 **Hey guys! Apparently, I've decided to be angst-fest central today. I almost made myself cry typing this, and that never happens. So, with that being said, I will try to get out another chapter of** _ **Baby Justice League**_ **out at some point this week. Writers block is a curse, yet a curse that I must live. (Steven Universe)**

 **Your feedback makes me more motivated to keep writing, so comment, follow, favorite, jump on the pudgy rainbow unicorn and ride over to my place to deliver your response, I don't care. Just do something!**

 **Sayonara, reader chan!~**

 **Disclaimer time!: I don't own anyone in this story!**


	3. Chapter 3

The next time the Dick woke up, Alfred was the one by his bedside, bearing food. He felt weak and nauseous, but better overall than he had been when he had fallen asleep. "Hey, Alfie." Dick said slowly and quietly. His voice sounded funny.

"Greetings Master Dick. How are you feeling?" Alfred asked, looking at his sick grandson with veiled concern.

"Like I got run over by a truck," Dick groaned, but was grinning none the less. "Thanks for asking."

"You are quite welcome young sir. If you would eat, perchance you would feel better?"

"That is, if I can hold it down. Might as well try though."

"Very well, Master Dick. If you wish, I shall fetch Master Bruce. He's running himself ragged at the moment. I believe it will help a great deal if he was able to see that you're doing better."

Dick looked up, shocked. Bruce was usually very composed under any situation, be it bad business relations or the Joker escaping from Arkham. To know that the young acrobat had that effect on his mentor was as humbling as it was alarming. The bird smiled, if only internally.

"Yeah Alfie, tell him if he wants to come in he totally can." Robin scooted up in the sea of pillows and grabbed the bowl of soup. He took small bites, wearily noting that he wasn't throwing up.

Soon Bruce was in the room, having taken a shower and changed clothes a while earlier. He leaned against the doorframe. "Hey Dick, how are you feeling?"

"Eh, not too horrible. Are you sure you're okay? Usually you're not the one who's been beaten to the punch with a line. Hate to break it to you big guy, Alfred already said that. Would it kill you to be a little original?"

The corners of Bruce's lips twitched ever so slightly. "You're a real brat when you want to be, you know that?"

"Learned from the best."

"Ouch, I'm so offended."

Dick laughed. "I'm glad. It's about time something I've said has gotten through that thick skull of yours."

This time Bruce stayed smiling. "Just you wait Grayson, someday I'll make you eat your words."

Dick coughed a little, but stayed on guard. "I'd like to see you try Wayne."

They exchanged glares of amused challenge and Dick was so out of it that he didn't notice Bruce sit on the edge of his bed. Gingerly, the man took the spoon from his little bird's hand. Realizing what Bruce was moving to do, Dick started mumbling his protests. The dark knight simply fed him anyway. Dick's cheeks burned a brilliant shade of red.

Bruce smirked. "Here comes the airplane!"

Dick groaned, his cheeks burning even brighter if that was possible as he leaned back into the . "Go die.." He muttered, passively opening his mouth anyway when the spoon hovered near it. Bruce gave a short, uncharacteristic bark of laughter.

"Yeah kid, sure."

A couple minutes passed in this manner. "You know that I can do this myself, right?" Dick asked eventually, his throat hurting but the silence being worse.

"Of course," Bruce said, amused. Dick glared weakly.

After they were done, Dick looked like he was the most bored person in the world. Bruce decided to mess with his ward multiple times during the evening, ("No Dick, there aren't any posters on your wall, are you sure you aren't hallucinating?" "Cat? Dick, you know Alfred can't stand the pet hair… yes, I know you see a cat, but that wouldn't be logical would it?" "I don't hear any music…") but ultimately the both of them were bored. Then, Alfred came in to check his temperature. At 101 degrees, Bruce turned from the trolling parent to the frustratingly coddling one. ("Dickie, let me tuck you in the blankets are slipping" "Honey I know you feel sick… I know! Alfred can you get a humidifier?" "Shhh Dickie baby, everything is going to be alright..") Dick eventually decided he had enough.

"Bruce," he said, exasperation evident in his tone "You need to stop. You're acting like Babs would if she were here. Why don't we just watch a movie or something?" Bruce reluctantly agreed. So, the two of them ended up eating popsicles and watching Lilo and Stitch on Dick's flatscreen. Slowly, Dick drifted off.

 **I'm sorry that this chapter is so short, I wrote all of this today** **at an old-people center thingy. Ah Bruce** , **always such a strange one. Dick did get his trolling behavior from somewhere of course. Happy Mothers day!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own YJ!**


	4. Chapter 4

The next time Dick woke up it was late at night and Bruce was nowhere to be found. All it took was a glance out the window or at the clock to tell why, and even less than that for Dick to be worried. It didn't take someone with a genius sized intellect to know where Bruce was off too. Patrol, one of Robin's favorite times of the day, but also one of the most dangerous. It didn't take a whole lot of missed steps or wrong turns for it to be your last as one fought villains and swung rooftop to rooftop. It didn't matter to Dick though, as you can take the boy out of the circus, but you can't take the circus out of the boy. He was used to the stakes of his thrill seeking behavior being his life.

This, however, didn't stop him from worrying about Bruce as he went out patrolling. He knew the man was capable of handling himself on the streets, but there was always that risk even for the well-equipt. Anything ranging from scars to sprains to broken bones weren't uncommon, and it happened more often than he cared to admit.

He also had heard the stories from Alfred. Before he had come along, Batman was a different story altogether. A lot more risky, a lot more brutal, a lot more injuries. Alfred had said that having a ward and a partner made a world of difference to the way the man went about his nocturnal job. And now, he feared, however irrationally, that when Bruce wasn't patrolling with him that he'd resort back to that. The last thing he wanted was to loose another person he cared about. So he staggered sluggishly out of bed and put on a pair of the fuzziest, thickest socks he had. Multiple blankets wrapped tightly around him, cell phone and tissues in hand, he stumbled out the door.

He was cold already, which wasn't a fantastic state to be in knowing the destination at hand. Still though, he knew what had to be done. The staircase was a slow and brutal decent accompanied by sneezes and a mild headache that wasn't really the most pleasant sensation. He was glad when he reached his destination of the spotless grandfather clock that decorated the wall of one of the corridors. He carefully twisted the hands of the clock until the door unlocked and he slid inside.

The Batcave was cold and damp as one would expect, but no other place quite had the same feeling surrounding it as this one did. Dick carefully waddled his way into the large arm chair that sat in front of the bat computer and made himself as comfortable as possible. The addition of a heat option for aforementioned chair was an incredible decision, Dick decided. It made the area a lot more comfortable. He fell back asleep fifteen minutes later, feeling certain that at the very least he'd be here when Bruce got back.

* * *

Bruce was eternally grateful that he was there three hours later, when he got home. It wasn't as bad as Dick he had feared, but it also wasn't as good as he had hoped. There were areas of bruising around his legs where the enemy had no doubt landed a few lucky strikes against him. Blood framed his knuckles and palms from punching too hard. He was, however fortunately, unscathed aside from those two rather minor injuries. Dick felt better knowing that Bruce was safe. The releasing of the largely ineffective batch of fear gas however had put him on edge. He had actually called it a night earlier than usual, to make sure Dick was safe and sound. As he went to quickly record some information on the bat-computer so he could officially call it a night, he came across a sleeping bundle of blankets and mucus on the bat-chair (he really needed to think over renaming some of this stuff.) Relief swept over Bruce as he picked him up and carefully plopped him back down into his lap.

He wasn't usually one for this much contact, but he felt that it was warranted the long day he went through. Besides, it made Dick happy. That was all he cared about at the moment. The heating chair was a nice added touch.

 **Hey guys, I'm sorry for the length between updates, and the short length of this one. High school has come around, and I've been wicked busy and had tons of writers block. This was honestly something I whipped up over the last half hour or so because I received a comment on this piece and was inspired to come at this story again. Seriously, your feedback makes my day so much better, thank you so much. Unfortunately, a lot of the fanbases I'm now interested in aren't available on , so I've created an account on Archive of our own. I have admittedly not done a whole lot with it yet, but It's nice to have to option to post a Fall Out Boy or Game Grumps fanfiction if I want to. So if you guys are at all interested in that, I'll let you know the name of my account on there in the next update. If not, then that's also cool. I'm going to try to update more frequently, but I make no promises and I'm sorry about that.**

 **Sayonara Reader Chan!**


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